


Touch

by inichuinmylife



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2018-03-22 06:21:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3718357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inichuinmylife/pseuds/inichuinmylife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yao loves seeing him laugh.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touch

**Author's Note:**

> This was a request from listentochrysanthemums on Tumblr! The meme was to choose an obscure word, and have the person write a drabble based on it. She chose ‘gargalesthesia’, which is the sensation of being tickled. 
> 
> I personally think Kiku would be very ticklish. Someone who shut himself away for all that time would really not take to contact so readily, and that’s why I imagine him to be ticklish.

Whatever they actually were, nation, human, both, did not matter in the end; because regardless of who or what Japan – Kiku Honda – was, it still held true that Yao knew him better than anyone. This was a fact, as he told any who tried to disagree, and facts were by nature immutable. It was he who knew what embarrassed him and why, he who could guess Kiku Honda's true intentions when they were otherwise left unsaid, and he who could read the subtle changes in expressions that were more minute than the changes from dusk to dark.

It was a fact of which he was immensely proud. Over the course of two thousand years, he had come to understand and interpret each expression with a success rate that was by no means high but still eclipsed those of their foreign counterparts.

Despite all of this, he had rarely seen Kiku Honda laugh.

He had tried everything to make it more common. Self-depreciation, wordplay, suggestive humour, irony… none of them had worked. Kiku remained nonchalant, indulging him on occasion with a forced and cold laugh or an affectionate smile. And it was not enough. Yao did not want to see an imitation of a laugh; anyone could do that. No, what Yao wanted was to see _Kiku_ laugh; to see his lips quiver in amusement, to provoke the sound of laughter before it could be stopped, to have Kiku clutching his stomach in (for once) _openly_ sincere enjoyment.

This was no easy task. He cleared his throat as Kiku entered the room and delivered a – he may as well admit it – rather poor joke. Kiku stood there, meekly, uncertain how to react, and turned away to remove his jacket. “That’s funny.”

Yao wondered if he was fighting a losing battle. It was purely by coincidence that he won the war.

* * *

Kiku never left himself vulnerable. He knew from experience that people were fickle, and, if necessary, they would find it in them to leave him quicker than he could imagine. Being with Yao was a risk in and of itself, and he made sure to remind himself of it often enough to treasure it.

On a more personal scale, he did not like being touched. His reactions to it showed his weaknesses.

Yao, it seemed, was a mind-reader.

Just as he reached up to put Pochi’s lead back on its hook, his partner materialised behind him, silently, and grabbed his sides.

“Yao-san!”

“Yep,” Yao placed a kiss on his neck, hands creeping closer up his sides.

He wriggled slightly, attempting to escape. “Stop,” he pleaded, “that tickles.”

There was a pause and a moment of silence in which he managed to turn around and see Yao’s face. There was an expression of realisation written there, a smile that slowly grew in the same way that his smile slowly diminished. It was only then that Kiku realised his mistake. “Oh no,” he warned, “don’t you dare.”

But Yao was already advancing, and Kiku realised he was already backed up against the sofa. “No,” he said again, unable to stop the hint of anticipation in his voice. _This_ was precisely why he never left himself vulnerable. Oh, this mistake was going to cost him dearly, he could tell.

* * *

“You never told me you were ticklish,” Yao said pleasantly, reaching out as though to touch him. In retaliation, Kiku made as though to gently hit his hand away, but this, too, proved to be a mistake. Yao grabbed his wrist, using it as a point of contact and slowly wrestling him to the sofa. “Makes sense though,” Yao said brightly, sitting atop him to stop him moving and feeling an  _immense_ amount of satisfaction, preparing to begin and savour his work. Why had he not thought of it before? Of course Kiku was ticklish! He had been as a child, too, but Yao had thought he had grown out of it. His stigma against social contact ran deeper than that, certainly, but nonetheless…

Kiku had already started laughing, out of nervousness more than anything. Oh, he was going to enjoy this.

He reached, slowly, underneath Kiku’s shirt, ignoring the nervous and rather wriggly protests, and began to tickle him under the arms. The effect was glorious. Almost instantly, Kiku was howling with laughter, eyes closing and creasing at the corners in the first, genuine laugh that Yao had seen in decades.

“Yao-san,” Kiku pleaded, wiping tears from his cheeks. “Please!”

“Shh,” Yao said, deciding to use his own games against him. “Whatever will the neighbours think?”

Kiku only laughed harder as he moved down to tickle his stomach, unable to respond. Yao almost stopped in appreciation. It was too good to behold.

* * *

Somehow, Kiku’s mind fought slowly back to clarity. He had tried to overcome the sensation of needing to laugh, but to no avail. Why that had changed now, he was not sure. Then he realised that Yao – still sitting astride him, the smug bastard – had given him time to breathe. Their eyes met even as he tried to stop the dying laughs escaping him and, with something tantamount to playful horror, Kiku realised that it was not over.

There was only one thing for it. He would have to fight back.

So, even as Yao bent closer to tickle his sides again – Kiku could not help but laugh; the sensation of fingers playing on his skin was so alien, so unprecedented – he attempted to wrench Yao’s hands away and push him off. With a small and barely audible growl, Yao merely moved his hands above his head, leaving him completely and utterly exposed.

It was torment. Never before had he laughed so much, and his ribs were beginning to ache with the torture. Yao showed no signs of stopping, either, greatly enjoying his shrieks of laughter. Desperate, Kiku brought a knee up to hit him on the back, and – for a second – it worked.

Except, he was making an awful lot of mistakes today.

Quick as a flash, with a vigour that he did not think to put into his other movements (Kiku was reminded again just how good he was at martial arts), Yao released his sides and his hands, giving him a precious moment of air, only to whip off his sock and begin tickling the sole of his foot. “No,” he sobbed, as Yao mercilessly and uncompromisingly tickled right in the centre. “No, no, stop it, I can’t breathe!”

“You can breathe enough to speak,” Yao said with a devilish grin, tormenting him all the while and easily controlling his weak attempts at kicking him.

Even that bit of senility did not last long. He had never laughed for so long or so hard in his life. His ribs ached, his toes would not stop curling in protest, and the sting of tears bit at his eye. Before long, he was quite unable to think at all, and it must have shown on his face, because Yao stopped, moving off him to allow him to recover his breath, but still hovering over him, as though waiting for the chance to strike again.

Through gradually weakening laughs, he managed to speak. “No more. Please.”

“Alright,” Yao conceded, stroking a lock of hair away from his face. “I won’t. But let me tell you this,” he kissed him, deeply, and after a tender and bittersweet while, drew away. Kiku looked up at him, muscles still fluttering from all the laughter and the occasional giggle escaping him.

“What is it?”

“You’re beautiful when you laugh.”


End file.
